Page 121 of A Little Secret
He’s right. The game’s barely started, but fuck, we’re gonna play like it’s our last.
The next two periods are a blur, but Everett scores once, and the Bulldogs score twice after a fuckup by Cameron and a lucky shot by the Bulldogs’ center right before the buzzer, leaving us tied by the third period.
My muscles ache. Sweat pours down my face. And my mind races. As we skate back into position, I ignore the prickles along my spine and the mounting pressure. Before I can stop myself, my attention drifts to the stands for what feels like the thousandth time.
There he is. Shawn Burrows. His eyes are glued to the ice as Everett stands at the blue line. His posture is crouched and ready, waiting for the ref’s whistle to blow. He’s had a hell of a game. Seriously. I’m fucking impressed, even if it does contradict my own self-preservation. If Ev makes the team, he’s earned it, but I sure as shit am not going down without a fight.
Seconds later, the puck slips from the ref’s fingers, and this time, the Bulldogs steal possession and dart toward our goalie. The Bulldogs’ center attempts a wraparound, but our goalie makes a glove save, and one of my teammates rebounds it, opting for a dump and chase, sending the puck flying past the blue line. I catch the pass, but a hard check from a defender sends me sprawling onto the ice. The puck slips just out of reach when Reeves rushes after it and saves my ass. I scramble back to my feet, myskates cutting through the ice as Reeves chips the puck off the boards toward Everett when it’s intercepted.
“Fuck!” I yell.
As the seconds tick down on the clock, my breath comes in ragged gasps, and with a final burst of speed, I lunge forward, my stick meeting the puck with a satisfying crack. Sweat drips down my hairline, wetting the back of my neck as I push my body to the limit and race back to the goal, the crowd screaming at the tops of their lungs while the shot clock counts down. The defense closes in, but I deke left, then right, slipping past them.
“You got this, you got this, you got this,” I chant under my breath. With a powerful slap shot, I send the puck flying. It rockets past the goalie, and the red light flashes.
Three to two. We did it.
My teammates swarm me, their congratulations ringing in my ears.
We did it.
We. Fucking. Did. It.
So, why do I feel like shit?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
GRIFFIN
“Game Night?” Reeves suggests, shifting his attention from me to Ev as he slides his T-shirt on in the locker room. “You in?”
Everett smiles, then looks down at the ground. “Yeah, yeah, I think we’re in. Let me talk to Raine and make sure she’s good with it.”
“Yes.” Reeves pumps his fist into the air, cups his hands around his mouth, and yells, “Game Night at our place! See you there!”
Our teammates cheer, more than ready to replay the game with our friends and celebrate tonight’s win. Coach gives us a congratulatory speech, and we jump in the showers and get dressed. There’s always a high in the locker room after a good game. And a buzzer beater like tonight? It has us even higher than usual.
Or at least, most of us. I’m too lost in my own head to enjoy it. Pulling my phone from my locker, I check the screen for any messages from Uncle Henry or Finley or even the Lions’ GM, but there isn’t anything.
“Good game tonight,” Ev says.
Tucking my phone into my pocket, I clear my throat. “Yeah, man. You, too. Look, uh…”
“Let me ride the high, yeah?” he interrupts. “I know shit is messy with…everything, but I could use my best friend right now.”
I hesitate. “What is it?”
“Do you know what tonight means?”
“What?” I ask.
“It means…” His smile stretches, and he tips his head back, yelling, “Fuck, yeah!” Turning back to me, he explains, “I wanted to tell you, but, uh, after shit went down at the house, I didn’t know what to say.”
“Ev—”
“Let me finish.” With a laugh, he scratches his jaw, shaking his head like he’s in disbelief. “Did you hear the Lions’ GM was in the stands?”
I nod, unable to look him in the eye.